Dead Poets Society

dreadful books you haven’t read will be
on your final exam, so I suggest you practice on your own. Now for some traps
of college exams. Take out a blue book and a pencil, boys. This is a pop quiz.”
    The boys obeyed.
Keating passed out tests. He set up a screen in the front of the room, then
went to the back of the room and set up a slide projector.
    “Big universities
are Sodoms and Gomorrahs filled with those delectable beasts we see so little
of here: women,” he said and smiled. “The level of distraction is dangerously
high, but this quiz is designed to prepare you. Let me warn you, this test will
count. Begin.”
    The boys began their
tests. Keating lit up the slide projector and put a slide into the machine. He
focused on the screen a slide of a beautiful, college-aged girl, leaning over
to pick up a pencil. The girl had a remarkable figure, and, bending over as she
did, her panties were exposed. The boys glanced up at the screen from their
tests. Almost all of them did double takes.
    “Concentrate on your
tests, boys. You have twenty minutes,” Keating said, as he advanced the
projector. This time he focused a slide of a beautiful woman in scanty lingerie
from a magazine ad. The boys glanced up at the screen, struggling to
concentrate. Keating watched their obvious difficulty, amused, as he continued
the slide show of beautiful women in revealing and provocative poses, tight
blowups of naked female Greek statues—women in a seemingly endless, tantalizing
stream. The boys’ heads bobbed up and down from the screen to their blue books.
On his paper Knox had written “Chris, Chris, Chris,” over and over again as he
stared numbly at the screen.

Chapter
11

     
     
    The brisk Vermont
winter engulfed the campus at Welton. The once colorful foliage of the fall now
blanketed the landscape, and fierce winds blew the brittle leaves in torrents.
    Todd and Neil,
bundled in hooded down jackets and scarves, walked along a path that wound
between buildings, the wind howling as Neil rehearsed his lines for A
Midsummer Night’s Dream.
    “Here, villain,
drawn and ready. Where art thou? Neil called dramatically from memory.
    ‘“I will be with
thee straight,’” Todd read from the script.
    Follow me, then, to
plainer ground! ” Neil boomed, over the winds. “God I love this!”
    “The play?” Todd
asked.
    “Yes, and acting!” Neil
bubbled. “It’s got to be one of the most wonderful things in the world-Most
people, if they’re lucky, live about half an exciting life. If I could get the
parts, I could live dozens of great lives!”
    He ran and, with a
theatrical flourish, leapt onto a stone wall. “‘To be or not to be, that is the
question!’ God, for the first time in my whole life, I feel completely alive!
You have to try it,” he said to Todd. He jumped down from the wall. “You should
come to rehearsals. I know they need people to work the lights and stuff.”
    “No thanks.”
    “Lots of girls,”
Neil pointed out impishly. “The girl who plays Hermia is incredible.”
    “I’ll come to the
performance,” Todd promised.
    “Bluck, bluck,
bluck... chicken!” Neil teased. “Now where were we?”
    “’Yea, art thou
there?’” Todd read.
    “Put more into it!”
Neil urged.
    “‘YEA, ART THOU
THERE?‘” Todd bellowed.
    “That’s it! ‘Follow
my voice; we’ll try no manhood here. ” He bowed and waved to Todd. Thanks,
buddy. See you at dinner,” he called, running into the dorm. Todd stood outside
watching him, then shook his head and walked off toward the library.
    Neil leapt and
danced down the hallway, jestering his way past other students who eyed him
curiously. He pushed open his door with a flourish and jumped into the room,
fencing the air with the jester’s stick.
    Abruptly, he stopped. Sitting
at his desk was his father! Neil’s face turned white with shock.
    “Father!”
    “Neil, you are going
to quit this ridiculous play immediately,” Mr. Perry barked.
    “Father, I...”
    Mr. Perry jumped to
his feet and pounded his hand on the desk. “Don’t you dare talk back to
me!” he shouted. “It’s bad enough that you’ve wasted your time with this absurd
acting business. But you deliberately deceived me!” He paced back and forth
furiously as Neil stood shaking in his shoes. “How did you expect to get away
with this? Answer me!” he yelled. “Who put you up to this? That Mr. Keating?”
    “Nobody...”Neil
stammered. “I thought I’d surprise you.